


I know a place (with a better view)

by lost_n_stereo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, Busker!Clarke, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 13:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3852802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_n_stereo/pseuds/lost_n_stereo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin lives her life on her own terms. No alarm clock, no nine to five. Just her and her guitar on the beautiful boardwalk of Venice Beach. When she meets a gorgeous tourist who’s just in town for the weekend Clarke decides to show him how the locals play. Busker!Clarke AU inspired by “Cadillac Hotel” by Kaci Brown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I know a place (with a better view)

Everyone told her she was crazy and some days she thinks they might be right.

Sometimes it's when the rent is due and she can barely scrape by even though she only pays a quarter of it with three other roommates. Other times she's living on dollar fifty hot dogs from the stands near the beach, her tummy grumbling every time she passes one of the five star restaurants that line the streets of the boardwalk.

But then there are days like today, where the sun shines until well into the evening and the breeze from the ocean is light and salty. Palm trees wave hello and goodbye as the days bleed into each other from sunset to sunrise, people passing by her as she strums lazily in time with the crashing waves.

These are the days she lives for. These are the days that she gave up everything for.

***

"Maybe I'll see a cute surfer boy today."

Clarke smiles to herself as she places her guitar into its case carefully. It's not the nicest guitar in the world, not by a long shot, but it's her most prized possession and she treats it as such.

"You see cute surfer boys every day," her best friend and roommate Raven says as she runs the wand of her mascara over her eyelashes. "But maybe today will be the day you actually talk to one of them."

Clarke huffs as she clicks her guitar case shut. "I talk to plenty of people, thank you very much."

Raven scoffs. "And yet you haven't had a date since Finn. No wait, it was Lexa! That's right. Your last date was three months ago!"

Clarke narrows her eyes as she clicks the guitar case closed. "Well, we can't all be in a perfect relationship like you are." She doesn't mean for it to come out as bitter as it sounds. "I just mean..."

Raven waves her off. "I know what you mean. And I'm sorry that Kyle and I are so sickeningly in love." Clarke rolls her eyes when Raven flashes her a grin. "But seriously, Clarke. You'll never fall in love with anyone, surfer boy or not, if you don't at least put yourself out there."

Clarke throws up her hands. "Okay! You win! If I happen to see someone today that I find attractive, I'll make an effort to talk to them."

Raven smiles as she passes Clarke, dropping a kiss on the top of the blonde's head. "Good girl. Now if you'll excuse me. I have a ten o'clock class and I'm pretty sure if I'm late again I will be kicked out of college." She tosses a quick wave over her shoulder as she opens the door and then she's gone.

Clarke is almost always the last one to leave in the mornings due to the fact that she doesn't really have a schedule that she has to abide by. Every morning is pretty much the same. She rolls out of bed when she feels like it, showers and packs up her guitar before heading over to her favorite coffee shop. It's her favorite because it's cheap, and when you're a struggling musician you tend to make do with what you have. At least it's cheap _good_ coffee.

She waves to the one of her favorite baristas when she pushes through the door and he gives her a warm smile when she orders a black coffee.

"Nice day today," Monty says as he pours her coffee into a lime green mug, the color clashing horribly with the orange hue splashed onto every wall. The place is eccentric, to put it nicely, and Clarke wouldn't have it any other way.

"It is," Clarke agrees as she looks out at the ocean through the coffee shop's floor to ceiling windows. "Surfing today?"

Monty grins as he pulls a blueberry scone and places it on a napkin before pushing it towards her. He rolls his eyes when she tries to give it back. "Just take it," he says with a laugh. "And no surfing for me today but this weekend for sure. A friend of mine drove in from Vegas yesterday so we'll definitely get on the water this weekend."

"Sounds fun," Clarke says as she takes a sip from her cup. "And because it's such a gorgeous day, I think I'm going to have my coffee outside this morning."

The air is already heating up when she sits at a table outside, her guitar case resting under the table at her feet. She sips her coffee in comfortable silence while she people watches, a habit she picked up shortly after she moved here. It wasn't really possible to people watch in her hometown, mostly because she knew almost everyone that would pass her.

She looks up briefly when a man with a large handwritten sign starts shouting on the corner, his hands flailing in the air as he yells at passing cars about the "end of days". It's another daily occurrence, one that frightened her in her first few days in town but now she just tunes him out, choosing instead to listen to the seagulls that are flying in wide circles over the ocean.

Most days she likes to set up right here on the boardwalk, where the majority of the tourists spend their time and more importantly, their money.

She's been a busker in Venice Beach for almost two years, since the day she decided that she had simply had enough of the way her life was going. Enough of the supermarket she had been working in since high school. Enough of the small town in Texas she had only left twice. Her music was the only thing that kept her going through countless days of the same old thing.

So one day she quit her job, to the surprise of her parents and closest friends. It was even more of a surprise to her high school sweetheart, Robbie, and when she told him that she was moving to California to follow her dreams he had literally laughed in her face and told her that she'd never make it.

"Maybe I won't," she had told him, her arms crossed firmly across her chest. "But at least I won't die in this town like the rest of you."

It felt cliché the moment the words were out of her mouth but it was the truest statement she had ever made. Three days later she was on a bus to California, seven hundred and thirty eight dollars in her pocket, with nothing but her guitar case and a duffel bag full of clothes.

Everything that has happened since then, the good and the bad, goes into her music.

She can tell two songs into the day that it's going to be a slow one. It's barely noon on a Tuesday in the middle of May and when three tourists pass by a spot she normally does pretty well in without so much as a glance she realizes that she's probably going to be living off of dollar fifty hot dogs for the next couple of days.

On days like today, when the sun is shining but no one's buying, she likes to hit the beach instead of just packing up and heading home. There's something about the warm sand under her toes that centers her in a way that nothing but music ever has before. She keeps a small throw blanket in the hand woven tote bag she bought from a street vender last summer and she takes it out now, throwing it over the sand so she can sit down.

It's second nature to take out her guitar. She's not playing anything in particular, her fingers moving idly over the strings as she digs her toes into the sand. There's a group of guys playing volleyball down the beach from her and she smiles a little when one of them stops to check her out. His friend notices and tosses the ball straight at his head and she can't help but laugh when it connects soundly, a blush now climbing up his cheeks as he looks away.

Safe to say he probably won't be coming over to talk to her anytime soon.

Lunchtime comes and goes and she's so relaxed and into the vibe of the day that she doesn't remember to eat until close to four. There's a sandwich truck not far from where she's sitting so she spends a few dollars to get herself a turkey sub and a bag of chips before reclaiming her spot on the beach.

She's halfway through a Joni Mitchell song, a record her mother played on repeat when she was a little girl, when a flash of yellow catches her attention from the corner of her eye. A gorgeous (shirtless) guy is walking down the beach, board shorts sitting low on his tan hips, and a bright yellow surfboard tucked under one arm. He has the air of a local but something about him screams tourist, even if she can't put her finger on it.

She doesn't stop singing until he stops in front of her, a warm smile on his face as he looks down at her from where he stands.

"Beautiful," he says simply and her fingers stop moving as she squints up at him.

"Excuse me?"

"The song," he explains with a chuckle. "And your voice."

Clarke blushes a little. "Oh. Thanks."

He grins as he stands his board up in the sand and she raises an eyebrow when he drops down next to her. "And you."

"What?"

"You're also beautiful. But I felt like that might have been too much to start off with."

Clarke laughs a little. "Compliment the song, then compliment the girl. Is that your normal tactic?"

"Something like that," he shrugs. "I'm Bellamy." He holds his hand out, which puts him in an awkward position since he's sitting.

"Clarke." She puts her hand gingerly in his and tries to ignore the fire that ignites inside of her the second their skin touches. "So where're you from, Bellamy?"

He gives her a wounded look. "And what makes you think I'm not a local?"

"Call it woman's intuition," she snarks. "But I'm right, aren't I?"

Bellamy considers this as he looks out over the ocean. "Vegas. I'm here for the weekend..."

"To visit Monty," she finishes for him and the look of surprise on his face is borderline comical. "He works at my favorite coffee shop. Mentioned a friend from Vegas. Put two and two together..."

"A regular math wiz." He flashes her a teasing grin when she turns to him.

"You think you're quite charming, don't you?"

Her heart starts beating a little faster when he leans close to her, his shoulder bumping hers as his breath fans over her cheek.

"A little charm never killed anybody." The little wink that he gives her has that bad boy tone that makes her wonder how he's friends with sweet Monty. "So what's up next?"

His tone is bright and cheery again and honestly...where did this guy come from?

"What are you talking about?"

Bellamy rolls his eyes and motions to her guitar as if to say duh.

"Oh," she says as she looks down at the strings. "I don't know. What do you want to hear?"

He closes his eyes for a minute as he listens to the waves and there is something strangely serene (and probably borderline creepy) about watching him.

"Know any Dylan?" He asks a few moments later and she scoffs as she plucks out the first few chords of "One More Cup Of Coffee".

"Do I know any Dylan," she says with a soft laugh right before she starts to sing, her eyes closing as she moves her fingers effortlessly across the familiar chords.

_"Your sister sees the future like your mama and yourself. You've never learned to read or write, there's no books upon your shelf. And your pleasure knows no limits your voice is like a meadowlark. But your heart is like an ocean, mysterious and dark."_

There's a thing about musicians, at least in her experience, in that they are never fully comfortable unless they are performing. Put them in front of a group of people and ask them to talk about themselves and they'd probably run and hide. When you put them in front of a group of people with an instrument and a good song and their souls will sing. Right now, sitting on the beach with a beautiful boy and her voice ringing out over the crash of the ocean waves, she's never felt more alive.

_"One more cup of coffee for the road. One more cup of coffee 'fore I go to the valley below."_

Singing in front of Bellamy doesn't faze her but the honest to god standing ovation he gives her when she sets her guitar down leaves something to be desired.

"Oh my lord," she laughs as she tugs on the bottom of his board shorts. "Sit your ass down!"

"That was, excuse my language, but fucking incredible, Clarke." He's laughing as he drops down into the sand beside her, so close now that their thighs are touching from hip to knee. "You have the most gorgeous voice, it's unreal."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she flirts and she thinks that Raven would be proud of her right now. Bellamy's eyes are darting between her lips and her eyes but he's definitely not winning her affections that easily.

"So there's this party at my hotel tonight," he starts and Clarke is shaking her head before he can even finish his sentence. "What?"

"I don't do tourist hotel parties," she says and he sticks out his bottom lip in a pout. "Hey, I'm not saying we can't hang out. But I do know of somewhere we can go." She's full of excitement when she stands up and places her guitar in her case, clicking it closed soundly as she turns to Bellamy, who hasn't moved an inch. "Come on," she says as she stretches her hand down to him.

"Where are we going?" He asks with mock uncertainty and she gives him the most innocent face she can.

"Do you trust me?"

Her body feels like it's on fire when he licks and bites his lips, his perfect white teeth indenting his perfect bottom lip just a little, and he lets her pull him up.

"Lead the way."

It's not a long walk to the destination she has in mind so after they drop his board with Monty at the coffee shop they take their time as the day starts to wind down into late afternoon. Clarke loves everything about the boardwalk but her favorite thing about it is the smell. The salty sweet smell that's a delicious mix of the ocean breeze and the countless food carts and restaurants that serve hundreds of hungry tourists every day. She points out her favorite places to Bellamy as they make their way through the crowded streets, sidestepping drunk tourists and street performers that will be there until well into the evening.

"This way," she says as she crosses onto Dudley Avenue and she likes that Bellamy is following her without asking where they are going. She's always been attracted to people that are fun and adventurous and she can see those traits in him.

She laughs out loud when she stops abruptly causing Bellamy to smack straight into her back. Before he can ask her what she's doing she takes him by the shoulders and turns him to face the opposite side of the street.

"What am I looking at?" Bellamy squints up at the pink and turquoise building and she wants to roll her eyes because the words are written onto the side plain as day.

"This," she says dramatically with a flourish of her hand. "Is the Cadillac Hotel."

She waits patiently for him to do something drastic like gasp or ooh and ahh over the majesty of the place but he simply stands there, eyes blinking against the sun until he looks at her with confusion etched into his features.

"It's a motel."

" _Hotel_ ," she corrects with an eye roll. "And it's the Cadillac Hotel."

"Okay," he says slowly as he looks back up at the building. "So let me get this straight. You have an issue with hanging out at a hotel if it's full of tourists but you have no problem hanging out with a tourist at an old hotel?"

"Well when you put it like that," Clarke says sarcastically and they both laugh. "I thought you said you trusted me?"

"Okay, okay." Bellamy grins as he holds both hands up in front of him, palms out like he's surrendering. "You win. So now what?"

Clarke grins slyly as she points to the very top of the building, watching as Bellamy's eyes sparkle as their gaze travels from her face and up to where she's pointing to.

"Now we go up there."

The bar that occupies the rooftop of the Cadillac Hotel is normally full of people, locals and tourists alike. Women in their forties with far too much plastic surgery hitting on the young tourists, college boys from small towns in states like Idaho or Ohio that are in town for spring break or summer vacation. Old men that have lived in the area for years, smoking Cuban cigars around one of the many tables that line the borders of the rooftop.

Tonight there is hardly anyone up here at all. Clarke waves to the bartender Miller, a guy she met through Raven a short time after she moved here, and he has two draft beers waiting for them when they walk up to the bar.

"How's the crowd tonight?" Clarke asks him as she slides one of the full mugs of beer in front of Bellamy.

"Slow," Miller says as he looks past her onto the practically empty rooftop. "Looks like one of those nights where everyone will clear out by two."

"Good," Clarke says with a grin as she reaches for Bellamy's hand. "Don't forget to leave the key in the place."

Bellamy gives her a strange look but she brushes it off and Miller looks at Bellamy before raising an eyebrow and finally nodding.

"What was the about?" Bellamy asks when they find two seats on the edge of the roof facing in the direction of the ocean.

"Well the bar closes around two-thirty," Clarke explains as she takes a long drink from her glass. "But I want to show you something that will keep us here much later than that. Got anywhere to be anytime soon?"

She almost shudders involuntarily when Bellamy shakes his head, slowly taking a drink from his beer, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I'm all yours for as long as you want me."

It's scary that she really really likes the sound of that.

There's nothing like watching the sunset in Venice Beach.

For one, the colors are beautiful. Vibrant rays of gold and pink, splashing across the sky like an abstract painting. Around this time the boardwalk is alive with lights and sounds and smells. From their view way up high they can see everything. They watch as some surfers brave the waves in the near dark, their boards crashing in tune with the ocean.

The bar empties completely after midnight, leaving the two of them alone on the roof as Miller stands awkwardly behind the bar, still on the clock until a little after two.

"This is beautiful," Bellamy says softly and when she looks at him he's leaning over the railing, a blue t shirt now pulled over his chest and his board shorts still hanging low on his lips.

"It sure is," she says but she's not watching the ocean or the busy street below.

Bellamy is like no one she's ever met here before. He has the good looks of a local, the dark tan skin and the windblown wavy black hair, but he also has an air of sophistication that she's never seen a guy around her age have. Granted, Bellamy is a couple of years older than she is, but he's still quite young in the grand scheme of things.

She learns a lot about him in the hours leading up to what she's been referring to all night as the main event. He tells her about his mom and his sister, about life in Vegas and what he's studying in school. She's a little surprised to find that he's a History major and when he tells her that he'd like to someday teach she can't help but find it extremely attractive.

It's nearing five in the morning when he yawns for the first time.

"Play me something," he says sleepily as he leans back in his chair. "Keep me awake."

"You're going to fall asleep if I play," Clarke says with a laugh and Bellamy shakes his stubbornly. "Okay, fine. What do you want to hear?"

"Surprise me."

The moon is still high in the sky and she watches Bellamy's face as she strums her guitar, his eyes fixed on her so intently that she ends up closing her eyes as she sings.

She's both surprised and not when she feels him take the guitar from her, her fingers strumming a random chord causing an awkward sound to fill the early morning air but it doesn't stop him from lowering his lips to hers.

His kiss is intense and eager, his arms easily lifting her up until they are both standing and her hands clutch his biceps as she tries to give him everything that he's giving her.

She's not sure how long they stay like that but soon there are bright rays of light coming from across the ocean and she hates to pull away but she doesn't want him to miss this.

"Bellamy," she whispers as she tears her lips away from his. "Look at how beautiful it is."

"I am," he says, his eyes never leaving her face and she laughs a little when she nods towards the ocean.

"I'm serious. Look."

"Wow."

The sunrise is approaching fast and the ocean is alive with brightness.

"Isn't it gorgeous?" Clarke asks and she smiles when Bellamy moves behind her so he can rest his chin on her shoulder.

"Thank you for bringing me here." His breath is hot on her neck and she barely has to turn her head before he's catching her lips with his again.

"Thanks for trusting me," she says against his lips and his hands tighten a little where they rest on her waist.

"So now that we've seen the main event," he says as he twists her in his arms so she's facing him again. "Would you like to come see my room now?"

She grins wickedly as she leans up, her teeth grazing the shell of his ear.

"I think that can be arranged."

"It's got a great view too," Bellamy says with a chuckle as he looks over her shoulder and out over the water. "Not as good as this but still good."

The already warm morning sun beats down on their necks as the walk hand in hand down the mostly empty boardwalk, and Bellamy stops when he hears Clarke humming.

"New song?" He asks curiously and she smiles as she looks up at him.

"I've been inspired," Clarke says simply as she holds her guitar case tightly in her free hand. "Maybe I'll play it for you later."

She doesn't know if it's the promise of her playing or the promise of there being a later that makes him grin and kiss the side of her head, but she likes that he does it just the same.


End file.
